


wear this on my sleeve

by Trojie



Series: the ghost of you [2]
Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Angst, Hotel Sex, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Touring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 13:51:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8982523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trojie/pseuds/Trojie
Summary: Hell yeah, they did that twice.





	

**Author's Note:**

> An alternate Frank-POV scene from _could I? should I?_

Mikey's nothing like Gerard when he's underneath you, is the first thing Frank thinks, which is probably the most inappropriate thing he could be thinking, but hell. It's also probably not surprising that's what's running through his head right now, given his heart is still pounding from Gerard walking through the fucking hotel room door five minutes ago and seeing him like this. Seeing Frank with his hands in Gerard's baby brother's pants. 

Mikey's heart is pounding too, Frank can feel it where Mikey's wrists are draped over his shoulders and where their thighs are touching - the thump of blood through both of them accelerated by adrenaline and shock and hormones and alcohol. 

Frank thinks he's judged this right, caught it early enough, that Mikey's gonna remember this in the morning. Or maybe hopes is a better word. 

Even drunk, even at the worst of it, Gerard would have been wrestling Frank for advantage if they were like this together - he likes control, that boy, likes things to go the way he pictures them in his head. Mikey, though, Mikey's lax under Frank, responsive, rolls his body to fit himself to Frank's hands, blatantly seeking pleasure in a way that makes Frank want to give him more and more and more. 

Mikey's hands are _insane_. They're rough and hard and they scratch, but he's so fucking gentle with them, all over Frank's bare back and down over his ass and around to start stroking his dick. Frank's no stranger to the feel of guitar callouses on his junk - mostly his own, truth be told, but occasionally someone else's, if he's lucky, and he likes it. A lot. 

'Fuck, Mikey,' he breathes. 'Feels so fucking good,' and Mikey squirms under him. 

'We gonna fuck?' Mikey asks, one hand wrapped around Frank's cock and the other on his hip, harsh and soft all at once. The way he asks is so fucking unsure Frank could spit. Instead he settles his weight heavier on Mikey's hips so there's no goddamn way it could seem like he's trying to back out of this. 

'If that's cool with you,' he says, and feels Mikey twitch under him. 'How'd you wanna -' 

Mikey's thighs spread, and he wriggles til he's lying down and Frank's on top of him. 'Like this?'

Frank's pretty easy going about who sticks what where, generally, but fuck, yes, he can definitely do that. 

He should probably not be surprised that Mikey's got lube and condoms in his washbag, right? No. He should just be grateful that it lets him do this, get four fingers in there, one at a time, Mikey asking for the next one almost before Frank's got the last one in, half demanding, half begging. Every time Frank tries to lean up, get some space between them to get better leverage, Mikey whines. He clutches at Frank's shoulders with those sharp-padded fingers, scores lines even without fingernails to do it with. 

'No,' he says when Frank tries to force it. 'Stay,' and there's something there, something in that that Frank's gonna have to untangle later, but for now he just does what Mikey wants, pins his shoulders down by weight and pulls his fingers free and tries to bunch up enough to get a rubber on and feel his way to Mikey's hole. It's a little awkward but he manages, doesn't bother teasing, just fucks himself straight in and Mikey arches like a bridge under him. 

'Like that?' Frank grits out, not sure if he's asking if he's doing it right or if Mikey's enjoying it, one of the two, both, who fucking knows, who fucking cares, because Mikey's moaning and tossing his head and gasping for more. 

It's too fucking much. Too wet, too hot, too late, and Frank's unloading into the condom and Mikey's twisting on him and sucking on his fingers and suddenly there's a mess between their jammed-together bodies. Mikey looks actually relaxed for the first time since they got back on the bus to start this tour, and Frank can't help kissing him. He's so - god. Frank just needs to kiss him. Needs to make that soft, pretty expression warm up into a smile. 

Frank's an idiot over both of the Ways, he's known it for years. This is probably a stupid fucking idea, but Mikey's mouth is so warm, tastes so good. 

Eventually he manages to pull away enough to grope by the side of the bed for a t-shirt to mop them both up with, pulls free enough to get rid of the condom, but when he tries to actually get up Mikey reaches for him again.

'I should -' he starts, but the rest of the sentence gets smothered by Mikey's mouth, the words eaten away before Frank can say them, can even figure out what they were meant to be. And before Frank knows what's happening he's on top of Mikey again, being held hard and rubbed up against. They rut together like kids, dicks slipping against each other's skin, and kiss, and kiss, and kiss, like that's the most important part, and maybe it is.

The little gasp Mikey makes into Frank's mouth when he comes the second time is enough to make Frank's heart skip a beat. The way he does it again when Frank, helpless, follows him over the edge, is fucking devastating. 

That's when Frank knows he needs to get out of that room, to think over what the fuck he's just done, because his logic in doing it remains the same - Mikey needs something, be that something - but fuck. Can it be that simple? Is anything ever fucking simple? 

When he gets back to the room he's sharing with Bob and Ray, Gerard's in it too. In Frank's bed. He's not asleep, and his eyes are open, watching Frank as Frank strips down to his boxers and figures he can sleep on the couch - except then Gerard wiggles over and flops the blankets up, and Frank's not gonna take the couch when there's a proper mattress on offer. 

He climbs in and rolls over, facing away from Gerard, keeping a careful bandmate-scale distance between them, but Gerard curls up behind him, leans into him. Frank tenses, not sure what's going to happen. 

Gerard's lips find his ear. 'Thank you,' he says.

Frank doesn't sleep the rest of that night.


End file.
